


Plunge

by vorpal_platypus



Category: Pacific Rim (2013), Shingeki no Kyojin | Attack on Titan
Genre: Alternate Universe - Pacific Rim Fusion, Multi
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2013-07-22
Updated: 2013-07-21
Packaged: 2017-12-20 23:20:14
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 1,449
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/893077
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/vorpal_platypus/pseuds/vorpal_platypus
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Loosely interconnected ficlets about the Shingeki cast in the world of Pacific Rim.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Crossposted from my writing blog: http://theplatypusquacks.tumblr.com/post/55798989640/plunge

Jean’s not going to lie; drifting’s one of the weirdest things he’s ever done in his life. It feels like falling. It feels a little like those stupid trust exercises, the ones where you fall and expect the other person to catch you in their arms. It’s like that, but it’s so much better. You’re caught by their memories, trapped by their thoughts until you’re lost and a little confused when you lift an arm only to realize it was actually the other guy lifting his.

“You ready?”

“Whenever you are,” Marco replies. There’s a bit of a smile on his face, nervous, but his eyes are steady when they meet his, and the two of them step into the cockpit. The clamps fasten them in place, and then they plunge together into their Jaeger.

“We’re initiating the neural uplink, alright?”

“Got it,” Jean says as Marco says, “Understood.” As the plate descends and clanks against the back of his suit, Jean closes his eyes and leaps, knowing that Marco will be there to catch him.

So he falls but he doesn’t land, surrounded by the plush and warm memories Marco has of his family, the cadet days Marco and Jean shared. Was it really a surprise when they were declared drift compatible at graduation? It feels great; it feels familiar and it feels right, at least until Marco’s ripped away. That’s when Jean lands.

He wants to say he screamed “Marco!”, but he didn’t. He was screaming, but he was screaming in pain, clawing at his helmet like he was trying to claw open his brain because it hurts and he needs to make it stop make it stop make it stop now.

Jean’s had neural links break and desynchronize before and knows how much it sucks, knows how awful it feels. His first attempt at drifting ended prematurely with the nastiest migraine Jean had ever had in his life, but this is so much worse. Worse, because Jean’s drifted with Marco for years, knows the landscape of Marco’s thoughts almost as well as Marco knows his own. They’re a good team. There’s a reason why.

It feels like agony, like falling into glacier water and hitting the bedrock head first. His nerves are on fire, diffusing from his brainstem and spine, but the only thing Jean can concentrate on is fear and terror. He clings to it because it’s the last thing Marco thought in his head and if he doesn’t, the abrupt break might drive him mad.

There’s a metal screech as the kaijuu rips open the rest of the cockpit, glowing eyes staring into Jean’s. It roars, breath foul and mouth gaping, and Jean can’t do anything. He can’t move and the only thing he can do is-

Wake up. He jolts awake with his heart pounding in his ears and a building pressure in his temple. Pulling himself upright, Jean tries to steady his breath. He’s in his room, full of Marco’s things and Marco’s empty upper bunk.

“God fucking damn it.” He punches the wall. Rolling over, he flops facedown into his pillow.

“Not again.”


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jean’s done with piloting. He has no co-pilot; he can’t do it anymore. Erwin thinks different.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Crossposted from my writing blog: http://theplatypusquacks.tumblr.com/post/56097136614/plunge

Jean is surprised when he hears his doorbell ring. He took a month off duty, but at the end of it, he didn’t come back. He disappeared, and no one had bothered to look for him. After all, what use is a Jaeger pilot without a partner?

He stumbles from his futon to the door, dressed in a stained wife-beater and a pair of worn boxers. He hasn’t shaved in two days. He looks like shit, but he’s so tired, he doesn’t even bother to look through the peephole before opening the door.

“Commander?” Out of habit, his body moves to salute, but Erwin holds up a gloved hand.

“At ease.” Erwin peers into his apartment, face unchanged, but Jean feels distinctly uncomfortable and judged for the cramped mess that it is. Erwin opens his mouth like he’s about to say something, but seems to decide against whatever it was. “May I come in?”

“Of course,” Jean replies, because what else is he supposed to say? He moves aside to let Erwin in and picks up some dirty laundry from the floor as he moves towards the kitchen. “I only have water, is that alright?”

“Water would be perfect, thank you.” He shrugs his damp-it had been raining-overcoat from his shoulders and hangs it up on one of the coat pegs installed in the wall. “An ashtray as well, if you happen to have one.”

Jean sets two cups and an ashtray on the kitchen table and pulls up a chair for Erwin. His apartment is a tiny, one room deal. There’s a nook for the kitchen and a living room, and that’s about it. He sleeps on a futon spread in front of the tiny TV he managed to salvage from a garage sale. The two of them sit down after Jean pours water into the glasses.

Erwin pulls out a lighter and a pack of cigarettes from his uniform jacket. He lights one, takes a deep drag and exhales slowly, smoke puffing from his mouth and nose in a smooth stream. It’s good stuff; nothing like the cheap crap the workers smoke at the construction sites. Erwin sets his hand down, cigarette perched between his index and middle finger.

“I’m not going to insult your intelligence, so I presume you already have some idea why I’m here.”

Jean takes a sip of water. “Trying to get me back into the service, sir?”

“Yes.”

“I’m sorry Commander, but I left that life. I went AWOL, remember? A Jaeger pilot with no partner is useless. If anything, you should be dragging me back for a court martial because of desertion.”

“Fair enough,” Erwin replies. “But these are extenuating circumstances, and experienced Jaeger pilots are a rather rare commodity these days. I’m sure you’ve noticed.” His eyes flick briefly, pointedly towards the television. Jean muted it but didn’t turn it off. It’s playing the news report of the latest kaijuu attack.

Jean swallows. “It’s not my problem anymore. I have no partner; my Jaeger was damaged beyond repair last sortie. There’s nothing left for me to go back to.” Pause. “Sir.”

Erwin lifts his cigarette to his lips. “What if I told you it was repaired?" He says, voice smooth like butter, the envy of salesmen everywhere. "Brand new core, weaponry, brand new everything. It’s on par with the latest Mark V Jaegers.”

There’s a part of Jean that’s tempted by that. He did like piloting and the drift. There’s no feeling like it, and there won’t ever be, but it wouldn’t feel right. “I can’t do it.” He grips the cup so tight he thinks it might shatter.

“I can’t do it. Not without. It wouldn’t be right. It’s been ages and I,” Jean takes a deep breath, “I still feel him sometimes. In my mind, in my fucking dreams and I think he’s there, but then I look over my shoulder and he’s not-”

“I know.”

Jean looks up, looks straight into Erwin’s eyes and stares. “What?”

“Have you heard of the Jaeger Winged Freedom?”

“Of course I have. Everyone has. It’s the most famous of all the Mark I Jaegers. It was Humanity’s Greatest Hope. It didn’t lose a single time it went into combat even during the battle it got destroyed, and it set a record for number of kaijuu killed that still hasn’t been broken. It-” _It inspired me into thinking we could actually win this war_ , dies on Jean’s lips when he sees Erwin’s face. Previously impassive and blank, there’s now a faint and bitterly rueful smile. 

Oh, thinks Jean as the realization hits. His head drops into his hands, and he can't believe it, can't believe how good Erwin played him. Erwin, who knew exactly what to say despite never having drifted with him. He would be one of the most legendary Jaeger pilots to date. 

"You're a shitty person, you know that? A shitty fucking person."

"I'm aware.” 

Jean’s not looking, otherwise he would’ve seen the corner of Erwin's lip twitch upward in victory. Erwin takes another deep drag from his cigarette, exhales silvery smoke that wafts into Jean’s face and sinks into his clothes. The room is silent but for the sound of their breathing. 

When he’s done, Erwin mashes the cigarette butt into the ashtray, gathering his gloves up in his other hand. He stands. “Well, I think I’ve said all I came here to say. Think it over. I can be contacted at-”

“You don’t have to,” Jean interrupts. “I’ve made up my mind.”

“When can I start?”


End file.
